Breathe (and the dance, remember)
by lanesa
Summary: padawan and mentor, both fulfilled, and an aching yearning deep within. [obi-wan]


**Breathe** (and the dance, remember)

Long ages hence, and the years lie brooding upon your shoulders. Life has been full, and rich, and you have known such things as honor and comradeship. You have been _good_ – upholding the just, protecting the weak, earning the heavy respect; everything you have been taught to do. 

You have proven your worth countless times, long past the prime of your youth when blood once pounded pure and true through exuberant veins, even when there is no need anymore, even when the only ones whose judgments mattered were long since taken from you.    

It is what has been taught to you, ever since childhood, as you grew up as one with lightsaber and the pulsing knowledge that the Force flowed within you. 

You can still see him so clearly – the one who taught you those things. Noble face of mentor, soothing presence of guardian, the one whose large hands once held tiny trembling hands steady as they parried with saber. You wonder if he can see you where he is now, and even still you clear your mind as he once taught you to do, straining your senses for his wisdom in your thoughts. 

There are whispers, and the dust of ancient sands is antediluvian in your mind, quiet seductions ringing with the jumbled warble of many voices. You start to wonder if the muddled murmurs you think you hear don't sound very much so like the thrum and hub the Force makes as it echoes through humming auras. 

Your hands aren't so young anymore, and you can't seem to remember the last time your body obeyed your commands without protest. But the Force – the Force is with you eternally, as you taught and have been taught, and out of skilled familiarity your gnarled hands grasp the smooth handle as tired eyes focus on the slender column of blue that blazes in front.        

Parry and Thrust. You remember after all, the long years of idleness have not deprived your skills but honed them; your feet fall once more into the well-known dance. Sensuous twist and bend; it is a pattern out of a distant past that you have struggled to disregard, and perhaps if you focus hard enough you will be able to forget the man in front of you. Forget the man robed in black, face masked and breathing somber; the one who turned the tables on you, who called you master long ago, who ended up teaching _you_ of life and sorrow.  

Too much do you know of reaching out so swift you dare not look back. Your steps have been final, so you do not ponder questions and answers. Your road has been true; chosen the path, you have, as has your _padawan _– but yet you find yourself wondering of what ifs.  

Now the visions come tumbling: of a bright-eyed boy eager with high dreams of splendor and magnificence, of blonde hair flopping into eyes as small legs trotted to a hero's welcome, of a galaxy once suffused in a new hope of tranquility. 

Recollect. Standing under scrutiny in the midst of the Council, aching from dark eyes contemplative and keen wizened face of the tiny master from whom you all have learned. The boy beside you stands still and quiet, it is only your hands that tremble upon his small shoulders, but you have made your vow and train him you have sworn.

_(he will bring balance to the Force)_

            Flows strong through him, the fear does. You feel it, and you can feel it even now, faced with the dark mask that seems to dwarf you. Irony. That one so small should grow so menacing, that pupil should now battle mentor. Ah, padawan, his wrath has led him astray, his fears bring him a lie, and he has long fallen into twilight. 

            It was never like this with your own master. And suddenly you're weary of standing so tall and your feet stumble in their dance. You wonder what you have done wrong, yet destiny lies heavy as it has done for eternity, and it is the way of the World.

            Nonetheless, the regal face of your master does not appear, but unexpectedly the Force surges and pools around your mind, and you can feel his presence, reassuring and aching, along with many others that have gone before you, faces you have missed for many a long year.     

            He has taught you well, and you have not forgotten. No longer does the haze cloud your mind, your eyes are brighter than they have ever been, your steps take on a renewed vigor. 

            The Force will be with you, though you have fulfilled your promise, many times over, and the quest has already passed on. 

            You are not alone, Obi-wan. 

            Your burden has been carried well. So you raise your arms and the blow falls, although this is _your_ victory, and he who looks on in grief; the son, last of your kind, holds the promise within him.

            Ani has forgotten, the Dark Lord remembers, but soon you shall see that little boy once more, and the Jedi shall restore the world.

            Release your mind, Obi-wan. A Jedi shall know neither anger nor pain. 

            Even now, ebbing and spilling, the Force flows through you.        

~*~


End file.
